


3 Times Mr. Robot Disagreed With Elliot About His (Their?) Sex Life

by hummingrightalong, itslifethatscaresmetodeath



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-07 07:17:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19204540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummingrightalong/pseuds/hummingrightalong, https://archiveofourown.org/users/itslifethatscaresmetodeath/pseuds/itslifethatscaresmetodeath
Summary: After Mr. Robot. Minor spoilers? Not really though. Basically, Mr. Robot and Elliot have found common ground to co exist on. Tyrell and Elliot have finally worked their shit out but theres still a few kinks here and there.





	3 Times Mr. Robot Disagreed With Elliot About His (Their?) Sex Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HarleyQuinnForTheWin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarleyQuinnForTheWin/gifts).



> *stars indicate that the personality not currently in control is talking and only the other can hear it.

They’d been through hell and back together. They both thought that, had they made slightly different choices, they wouldn’t be where they are now. 

But, miraculously, they are. Once they’d realized they were going too far, that people- themselves included, were going to irreversibly suffer from their actions, they managed to get Mr. Robot on the same page. It took almost everything, and it certainly took a lot out of them.

The corporation was divided. Some people had been lost. Tyrell and Elliot both moved on, reopening Edward’s store and mostly working there. Some freelance stuff for Elliot like in the old days, the shit that he really loved to do, that made him focused and feel alive. Tyrell was surprisingly more than happy to live a little more modestly in exchange for getting what he’d really always wanted. Elliot. With Elliot comes Elliot's baggage of course, but fuck it.

Just getting to be with him more than more than made up for...well, the bad times. And there are more good than bad. 

For instance, Elliot hasn’t had to threaten Mr robot with the Adderall in a while. The prescription actually expired so that’s a good sign, but every once in a while, for an unsettling moment, Tyrell sometimes watches his boyfriend wrestle for control, grabbing his emergency supply from a locked, drawer only he knew the combination to. Nothing ever comes of it anymore, its an empty threat but still.

More often than not though, their little interactions were downright hilarious. 

In prison, Elliot had experienced an epiphany about organized sports. The stupid simple, seemingly irrelevant game was suddenly the most beautiful thing in the world to him. He needed a little more simplicity considering all hed been through so Tyrell didnt even mind getting dragged to every Knicks, Mets and Rangers game Elliot could find the time for...and yeah. So what if he talked to himself in public?

But of course, he and Mr robot are always of two minds about fucking everything and can't even agree on a team to root for so sometimes the rivalry gets a little out of hand 

At least he'd finally figured out how to talk to somebody. At least he was out of the house...

“They’re gettin’ crushed, like they *always* do.” Tyrell didn’t always hear both sides of the conversation, but he’d known them long enough that when he got the chance to watch Mr. Robot ‘borrow’ Elliot's voice- with a slight edge and a hint of a blue collar accent back, he could follow along for the most part.

“Hey it’s going to turn around this season.” Elliot, fighting to put his hoodie back up. He was freezing always. So goddamn skinny.

“That is what you always say.”

“Alright,” Tyrell interrupted. “Do I have to get between you again?” His brows furrowed, he looks at Elliot hunched up on one side of the couch, watches his eyes turned towards the other. The taller man sighs, falling onto the middle cushion. “Am I between you right now?”

“Pretty much.”

As things start to go better for the team, Elliot’s attention turns away from the TV to the hand running up his thigh. Tyrell lays him back against the couch, working the tight black skinny jeans open. He knows by now to tug from the bottom. When he’s worked his way back up Elliot’s gaze moves over his shoulder. “What?” The blond is working on his boyfriend’s underwear now, Elliot helping kick them off as fast as possible. He’s warmed up by the gentle kisses on his pulse, the slight scrape of teeth, a finger circling his asshole, working him open. 

Tyrell reaches up under the hoodie, at first gently swirling a thumb over a nipple and then pinching slightly. It’s Mr. Robot’s thing, and he’s a little embarrassed about it. Elliot has mentioned this before and Tyrell is hoping it’ll quiet him, but apparently he’s not done yet.

*It’s weird to fuck with socks on.*

“Fuck off. Our toes are cold. Why are you being so weird about this? And why are you still here? You know the rules.

*Not til the socks are off.*

"You’re joking. No. Fuck you. I'm keeping my hoodie on too. Now get out. He just tried to slam the door. Hold the fuck on.” Elliot gets up, chuckling, and finishes the job. Tyrell has just a second to think about how weird his life is as he follows behind, before Elliot unzips the hoodie and it standing on his toes to kiss him. Nevermind. He doesn't care.

Tyrell lifts him then, holding him against the door. Elliot reaches between them and unzips Tyrell’s (probably ridiculously priced) soft slacks, working his hand over the blond’s cock - as if it’s necessary. He pushes in, and a steady rattling is no doubt heard down the hall to the other apartments. Elliot digs his nails into Tyrell’s shoulders, who can feel it under the dress shirt he didn’t bother to take off.

***

Before Tyrell could tell the difference, Mr. Robot knew how to get him exactly where he wanted him. He hadn’t always been considerate, though, and while the latter wasn’t one to complain (to either of them), he had had made Elliot was aware when it suited him, just to fuck with his other half. To be a dick basically and he wasn't always gonna stand for that. And Mr robot wasnt stupid enough not to know damn well that was the case. He was just waiting for the other shoe to drop, really.

And then it did. In a big way. Mr Robot is almost impressed with the creativity of Elliiot’s revenge. He has to hand it to him, when the kid goes for it, it goes all out.

Tyrell had never been in control in those days. And that’s what the sex had always been about, control, keeping the man in love with his alterego confused but loyal.

Currently, Elliot is kneeling on a pillow. Tyrell was considerate enough (and had enough brain power left) to throw him one when Elliot interrupted his morning ritual and dropped to his knees. 

The blond’s hands go to the shaved sides of his boyfriends face, rubbing gently behind his ears. It elicits a moan from the other man, who looks up with eyes that are an indescribable kind of murky green (probably, usually, depending on where the light hits him). 

Elliot’s eyes are unfocused, his boyfriend assuming from the obvious evidence and the fact that Elliot is jerking himself off while he sucks Tyrell’s dick. There’s another muffled sound, possibly of appreciation, and his eyes widen as he looks up at Tyrell. The hand on his own cock stops for only a moment, and the other goes to Tyrell’s hip to slow and steady him. When he kind of gags, that’s the only indication to the blond that something is amiss. 

Not long after they’ve both come, Elliot seemingly a little reluctantly, he stands and lifts his hoodie (always there, but at least usually unzipped when they’re fooling around). “Hi.”

“Huh?” The sleepy post orgasmic haze has the other man dropping down on the end of the bed.

“Since he used to be such a dick to you, I decided to let go for a moment. Let him finish you off.”

“I...I have no response to that.” 

“I didn’t expect you to.” Elliot says, kissing him and dashing off to finish his own morning routine.

***

There’s a distinct sound of disgust from the man who was supposed to be sleeping next to him. They were curled up happily, Tyrell still inside him.

“Get off of me.” That’s the other one, no doubt. Still, the larger man whines and carefully pulls out.

Mr. Robot (apparently) lifts the covers, one hand running along the inside of his thigh, feeling Tyrell’s come leaking out of him. His face contorts in disgust. 

"What? We've been at it a while.”

Mr. Robot lands a punch to Tyrell’s face before he knows what’s coming. 

*Now that's uncalled for. Stop abusing my boyfriend, dude. You get, maybe one more of those.*

Elliot laughs from the other side of the room *Dude, dont be such a little bitch. Its not like I let him fuck you. I just left you to deal with the aftermath…*

"Is this your idea of -"

*Payback? You know it homie.*

Mr Robot heads to the bathroom, the lock clicking shut. Tyrell hears the shower running and various muffled curses as Mr. Robot fumbles around. How he’d find the answer he undoubtedly needed about...cleaning up, Tyrell had no idea. He creeps outside the door, listening.

"Omfg, it is everywhere. How do I -just...damnit Elliot! No! Get out. Get out of the bathroom...do not come in this shower fucker…” Apparently Elliot had followed him.

*You’re going to need my help.*

There’s enough sounds of a struggle that Tyrell is slightly worried. But he knows that the two have come to a conclusion of sorts. So he leaves them to it.

In the shower, Elliot’s ‘imaginary friend’ is completely lost and clueless, and still trying to refuse help. 

*There’s only one way this is happening. You’re going to have to use your fingers.*

“Fuck you.” Elliot takes just enough control back to help. There’s very little pushback from Mr. Robot when Elliot scissors his fingers inside of them (himself? Whatever). “Oh...um ok. Yeah. Wow."

*Not so bad, huh?* Mr Robot shoots him a dirty look but the complaints stop. Elliot can't help feeling a little smug.

There’s more faint sounds from the shower. If only Tyrell knew that the muffled moans were because the split control over their body allowed Mr. Robot to cover his moans with one hand, while the other prods his prostate, still just a little too sensitive from the orgasm Elliot had been coming down from when he thought up this little gem.

Fundamentally, Mr Robot understood how this worked. He’d never really been in the driver’s seat to feel it for himself though. So he gives in, allows Elliot to work them into the most intense orgasm he’s ever felt. The moment after he muffles the release by leaving a deep impression of their teeth in his hand, Mr. Robot is gone. Even Elliot isn’t sure if his alter ego had vanished from a bit of shame...or, sort of passed out like most men do after sex.  

"What did you just do to him in there?" Tyrell asks, still naked, but cleaned up himself. 

"What do I do to myself when you're too busy to take care of my needs?" That’s all it takes for Elliot, dripping wet and for once wearing nothing but a self satisfied smile, to find himself bent over the back of the couch.

*Hey! Condom!*

Elliot sighs, pushes Tyrell away. "Fiiine. I'll make a compromise. Don't look at me like that babe. Unless you want him here, watching with running commentary, rating your performance..." 

Tyrell takes the hint, and the condom, Elliot still draped over the back of their couch. He hadn’t bothered with a towel, drip drying, which would normally drive his boyfriend insane, but he obviously had other things on his mind.


End file.
